Page 21 of The Guilty One

I sigh. This is the last thing I need to be doing, but he’s right. It’s important. We have to know for sure. “Okay, fine. I’ll look at my calendar. But then what? Are you really going to accuse him of hurting Bradley? You know the two of them were the closest of any of us.”

I hear him release a slow breath. “Then I guess he’ll want to find out the truth more than any of us, won’t he?”

CHAPTER TEN

CELINE

Bradley Jennings is dead. More notable than that, Bradley Jennings died just six days before Tate disappeared. The thoughts repeat in my head like a broken record determined to drive me mad.

I read through his obituary, but I don’t find anything particularly of note. I can’t find any news articles about his cause of death either.

Pivoting from one theory to another, I pick up my phone and find my mother-in-law’s number in my contacts. She answers quickly, sounding stressed. “Hello? Celine?”

“Daph, I have a question.”

“We were just on our way to see you before we head to the police station. Have you heard anything from them? We’ve been calling all morning, but we’re not getting any sort of answers. We just heard back that they want to talk to us about someone Tate went to school with. Do you know what that might be about?”

“Actually, yeah. That’s why I’m calling you.” It doesn’t surprise me in the least to know my in-laws have taken matters into their own hands and are now contacting the police themselves in hopes of getting answers. “They identified the man who was driving Tate’s car yesterday. The one who had the wreck.”

“They did?” She gasps, and suddenly her voice is farther away, as if she’s put me on speakerphone. “Who was it? What did they say? Was he a criminal?”

“He was…actually, he was the person I’m assuming they’re going to ask you about, the guy Tate went to school with. I was hoping you might know more about him than I do. I couldn’t tell them anything.”

“Well, what’s his name?” Lane asks.

“Dakota Miller. Tate never mentioned him to me, but apparently they went to Highland together. Do you happen to remember him?”

There’s an eerie silence on the other line, and then I hear my mother-in-law inhale. “Dakota Miller? You’re sure that’s who they said?”

“Yes.” They must know him.

“They were friends,” Lane says finally with a shaky breath. “Best friends. Brothers, practically, and they took a lot of the same classes. We haven’t heard that name in years.”

“He was the boy who died yesterday?” Daph says, sounding as if she’s on the verge of tears. “You’re absolutely positive? It doesn’t make any sense. That can’t be true.”

“We’re pulling into your subdivision now,” Lane says. “Let us get into the house, and we can talk about it more.”

“Yeah, okay.” I end the call and go and wait by the door as they pull into the driveway. They get out of their car slowly, deep in discussion with haunted looks in their eyes. When they reach the doorway, Daph pulls me into a tight hug, sobs tearing through her.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispers. “I just can’t believe it.”

I hug her back just as tightly, though my own tears seem to have dried up at the source. I can’t bring myself to cry or even, truthfully, to feel sad for this man, when I have to be suspicious of him instead. Why did he have our car? Why did he wreck it? Where is my husband?

“Okay, so”—she smooths her hands over my hair, her bright blue, tear-filled eyes darting back and forth between mine—“what exactly did they tell you about Dakota? Are they certain it’s him?”

“I guess so. They asked if I knew him, and I said no. And they said they’d confirmed that they went to school together, and Dakota was the one driving the car. I went through Tate’s email, and there were just a few messages between them, or from Dakota to Tate, more like.”

“Messages? Tate hasn’t mentioned that they’ve been in touch.” Daph shakes her head, twisting her lips in thought.

“I think it was all just boring stuff—invitations to alumni events, mostly. And one address that he sent a few days ago, but it was to an insurance office out in Dublin, so I think it might’ve been work-related. The police were already at Tate’s office yesterday evening, so if that’s the case, maybe that’s how they connected the dots and figured out who Dakota was.” I pause, thinking. “Do you know what happened to cause them to stop talking?”

“Oh, I don’t think anything happened. They just grew apart after college, went their separate ways. You know how it goes. You promise to keep in touch, and then life gets in the way.” Daphne looks down, dabbing her eyes with her fingers. “Those boys were inseparable in college. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” She sniffles as Lane tucks an arm around her. “They were more than friends. They were brothers. They were, I mean, they practically lived at our house. They were such good boys.”

“What about Bradley Jennings or Aaron Bond?” I ask, probably pushing my luck.

Her eyes widen slightly. “Are they involved in this, too?”

“Do you know them?”

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